


swipe right

by archetypically



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, It's just really dumb, Look don't take this seriously, but space tinder is basically my life now thanks james gunn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archetypically/pseuds/archetypically
Summary: “I have found a new way to make friends,” Mantis says over her bowl of soup at dinner, blurting it out kind of out of the blue like she does most things.“That’s great, Mantis,” Peter tells her from across the table, and he means it. He doesn’t know the specifics of most of her life, because he hasn’t asked and, frankly, he doesn’t want to (there’s just, you know, too much about Ego and everything else that he’d just rather not think about for his own freaking peace of mind), but it’s obvious that it’d been totally lonely, and they’re all the first thing she’s had that have ever remotely resembledfriends, and --Yeah. Friends are great. Really great.Encouraged, Mantis bobs her head enthusiastically in a nod, and then does it again, and then again. “Yes. It is called Kynd-ler.”The soup from his spoonful is already, like, inside his mouth, and he swallows down the whole thing at once andcoughs.





	swipe right

**Author's Note:**

> or: james gunn talked about space tinder on twitter and i took that inch and walked a mile
> 
> (also prompt #7 from [this list!](https://carolsjdnvers.tumblr.com/post/186562276945/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a))

“I have found a new way to make friends,” Mantis says over her bowl of soup at dinner, blurting it out kind of out of the blue like she does most things.

“That’s great, Mantis,” Peter tells her from across the table, and he means it. He doesn’t know the specifics of most of her life, because he hasn’t asked and, frankly, he doesn’t want to (there’s just, you know, too much about Ego and everything else that he’d just rather not think about for his own freaking peace of mind), but it’s obvious that it’d been totally lonely, and they’re all the first thing she’s had that have ever remotely resembled _friends_, and --

Yeah. Friends are great. Really great.

Encouraged, Mantis bobs her head enthusiastically in a nod, and then does it again, and then again. “Yes. It is called Kynd-ler.”

The soup from his spoonful is already, like, inside his mouth, and he swallows down the whole thing at once and _coughs_.

So, yeah, not to state the obvious, but he hasn’t thought about Kynd-ler in a while -- had actually kind of forgotten about it, right up until about this exact second, honestly. There’s been the whole Guardians of the Galaxy thing, the whole… new kind of serious relationship forming with the greatest person in the universe thing, and it hits him, right now, like a whole ten tons of bricks, that there’s some stuff that’s still out there that he definitely doesn’t _want_ to be out there. That’s….

_Shit._

He clears his throat quietly, and swallows. Gets another spoonful of soup, and swallows that, too. This’ll totally just blow over if he just smiles and nods and doesn’t say anything about it so he can go and get rid of the evidence later, right?

He should know by now that these things never go the way he wants them to.

“Ain’t that the place for the freaky people?” Rocket asks over the rim of the mug he’s holding. “Like, the people who wanna get freaky? I don’t think you wanna be there unless you want some _freaky_ friends.”

Mantis scoffs. “How can it be _freaky_ if Peter is on there?” It’s super earnest, the way she takes up for him in pretty much every situation, and usually, he’s flattered, definitely flattered, but right now? Right now he just wants her to stop talking and never say another word ever again. He gestures wildly in her direction, mouths a _no no no_ \-- to no avail. “But I do not understand, Peter. Why do you want people to think you are bad? You are a very good person.”

And that’s when Peter just lets his forehead collide with the table, because he doesn’t want to look at anything, and there’s just nowhere else for it to go.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He hears Rocket _slap_ the mug down onto the table, and figures that his next move is to swipe the datapad out of Mantis’s hands and peer down at the screen, judging by the way Mantis protests. “‘Badass legendary outlaw.’ Quill, you should know better than to try to sell yourself with false advertising. _That’s_ never worked out well for anybody.” A pause before the inevitable worst comes (as Peter cringes against the table): “‘Swipe right if you wanna know how _bad_ I can be.’”

Then, like a _total_ asshole, Rocket doubles over in a fit of laughter, and Peter looks up for a second to find that it’s with the whole tears coming out of his eyes routine and everything.

“Who’s bad?” Drax asks as he pokes his head out from the galley, pot in one hand and knife in the other. “I will cut them with this knife.”

“No, no, no. This --” Rocket just gestures, still laughing too hard to get any more actual words out. And about two seconds after Drax comes over, he’s also laughing, practically loud enough to shake the whole goddamn ship. And then Mantis starts laughing just because Rocket and Drax are, and then in the commotion there’s an “I am Groot?” as Groot climbs up on the table to get a better look at what everyone’s laughing at, never wanting to be excluded from anything, and --

“Where’d you get that picture from, Quill? Up your _ass_?”

There’s a whole other round of laughter that could about double shake the ship, and that’s when Peter decides he’s had enough. Not even bothering to look behind him (honestly, he’d rather not know any _other_ reactions from this), he stands up from his chair and stalks down the corridor to his quarters in a huff -- yeah, like a child, sure, but what else was he going to do, sit there and _listen_ to that? Be the butt of their stupid joke for the whole night?

He loves having this family in his life, he really does, but at the moment? He _kind_ of hates them.

\----

It’s about five, maybe ten minutes later (he hasn’t kept track very well) when he hears footsteps come through the doorway of the bedroom, and then feels part of the bed sink down beside him. He doesn’t have to look -- which he doesn’t, occupying himself with pulling threads from the blanket under him -- to know that it’s Gamora.

She doesn’t say anything to him at first, and in that silence, he can _still_ hear everyone else laughing off down the corridor. God, how long is it going to be before he lives this down? Weeks? A month? More than that? Knowing Rocket, it’s probably going to be literal forever, and he’s not looking forward to the next days he has to face with _this_ hanging over him. He’ll just have to, what, eat by himself for the foreseeable future? Avoid especially Rocket at all costs?__

_ _Gamora’s voice, totally dry in tone, cuts into his thoughts and stops these half-assed plans in their tracks. “I just want to know why I haven’t seen it.”_ _

_ _He looks up from his mindless project with the blanket threads and at her. “Seen what?”_ _

_ _“How _bad_ you can be.”_ _

_ _Okay, so. That _really_ nice thought he’d had for about two seconds that maybe he could totally avoid it in here is now thoroughly, five-_hundred_ percent, obliterated. He lets out a long breath, and drops his eyes down for a moment before looking back up again. “Look, Gamora, this is from before I even met you. You know what I did -- met people, hooked up, got out before the next morning, that whole thing. Honestly, trust me, I haven’t looked at it or even _thought_ about it in….”_ _

_ _Wait. _ _

_ _“Wait.” He squints a little, focusing on her face really hard, and there it is, that not-even-half-a-smile that wouldn’t be noticeable to pretty much anyone else, but he knows means: “You’re totally laughing at me, too.” And, yep, he’s rewarded with an actual obvious smile for his absolutely genius detective work, the kind that lights up her whole face. Which he loves, and he could look at all day if she let him, except: “That’s rude, that’s _seriously_ rude, I’d never laugh at _you_ if our situations were reversed, do you know how embarrassed I was in --”_ _

_ _He’ll never be able to finish that thought, because that’s when her lips find his and he, frankly, couldn’t give a single shit about anything else. It’s a tried and true tactic of hers to get him to shut up, and he totally knows it, but he keeps letting it happen because -- well, why wouldn’t he? As far as he’s concerned, this could happen twenty times an hour, and he’d be completely fine._ _

_ _“You should delete it, though,” she tells him as she pulls away a moment later. “That picture isn’t flattering.”_ _

_ _Ouch. “_Hey_, I worked hard on that picture. It was super cool.” By the way she raises her brow at him, it’s obvious that she doesn’t agree, and nothing he says will ever convince her otherwise. “But yeah, you’re right, it’s gotta be gone. First thing in the morning.” He lets the blanket threads slip from his fingers, uses those fingers instead to brush some strands of hair away from her face. “I don’t even need it anymore, anyway. Not when I’ve got the _actual_ greatest person in the universe here, and she can kiss me anytime she wants.”_ _

_ _“Hm,” Gamora hums noncommittally, lips pressed together. “Get rid of that terrible picture, and I’ll think about it.”_ _

_ _“Okay, was it _really_ that bad? I mean, I totally got the best angle, and it’s a cool pose that makes me look super awesome, and --”_ _

_ _He _definitely_ doesn’t mind when he finds himself cut off for the second time._ _


End file.
